Venturing along a dusty bush track, Wind messing with your hair, Dust flies where rubber or hoof meet ground, There’s very few things to this compare.
Be it your choice of ute style, horse, or bike, The blue grey bush land blurs on by, As one becomes as one with their chosen ‘beast’, Beneath an aquamarine shade of sky.
Winding tracks vs long dirt roads, Dirt mound jumps ‘n’ obstacles to master, Canine friends running loyally along beside, May few be the unexpected hole or branch disaster.
For riding through the Aussie bush, Can bring a clearing of one’s mind, A freeing feeling that blows away debris, That can constrict us to a negative energetic bind.
And even if the red dust tracks one rides, Are ones you’ve ridden many a time before, Each time is still filled with that same sense of adventure, Of wonderment of what this time may have in store!
Boots on ‘n’ out the door, For ‘tis winter outback once more! The safest season to head into the Aussie bush, To go camping, play and explore!
Post planning, supplies packed, checkin’s organised, Venturing through the bushland can be an adventure to open eyes, For autumn rains and cooler weather trigger winter’s abundance, Though sans knowledge or local guidance the bush can be a fool’s demise…
Yet when one’s off upon a bushwalk on a clear, cool afternoon, One can revel in wonders to be found all around, From wildlife equally enjoying the crisp winter air, To the rainbow of parrots, wrens and finches singing sweetly their own sound.
There’s fuzzy rain created moss covering’s beneath many a tree, Tall seed headed grasses wave upon the gentle breeze, Many are gum loaded with buds soon to flower, The energy of the bushland’s generally one to empower;
Then comes the element of discovering that which came before, With Animal tracks, that long forgotten now overgrown and near ancient trees galore, Thus exploring in the amazing Australian bushland is far from ever a bore, For one can never know exactly what each bushwalk has in store!
As the sun’s light seeps into the outback, The bushland’s as still as can be, For the nocturnal creatures have gone to bed, And the daytime array are just now waking to see…
Thus there’s a stillness in the dawn time, Where only those from dusk chirp and whir, For even the earliest bird’s still in their nest, Though Morning activities are starting to stir…
As a ray of sunshine finally finds its way, As does the first birds sweet chirpy song, Animals awaken with the warming light, With this day anew yet to have a wrong.
Soon starts the chorus of magpie’s warble, Unmistakable amongst the melodious array of a birdlife orchestra, Whilst emu’s bass is only heard by those nearby, And cockatoo’s shriek ‘tis much like a rookie fiddlers beta.
Before too long the dawn blends into morning, The birdlife settles into their day’s mundane, The dew drops dried and reptiles warmed, The sunkissed outback life ‘tis one uniquely within its own seraphic lane.
The Blue sky greys above the tree tops, Shades off black and daunting, The pre-rain aroma ‘tis yet to fill the air, With Gidgee’s wreak ever so revolting.
The box trees leaves soon change their hue, To a green contrasting boldly the darkness of the sky, Stillness when paired with warmer humidity, Join Mother Nature’s warning a storm is nigh.
Creatures of all kinds seek their favourite spots, With a style near of electrifying grace and haste, ‘Till thunder starts to grumble through the air, All knowing there’s soon a storm to face.
Though a summer storm brings welcomed rain, They’re polar contrasts to winter’s style so peaceful, They possess effects challenging enough to be a pain, Including chain lightning, flooding and destruction creating situations for all eventful.
For when hail and droplets heavy hide the bushland that surrounds, One knows there’ll be nothing but mud for days upon the ground, Yet once it does dry the outback blooms now with replenishment abounds, Attracting birdlife and creatures moved along from where ‘tis still dry, Thus filling fresh rinsed air with all their grateful sweet sounds!
After a blistering outback summer near unbearable, The likes of Gidgee take their turn to bloom, Whilst animals and people all around enjoy the reprive, And campfires are planned beneath the April moon.
For soon shall be the time for camping trips, Bush Adventures and the like galore, As the Australian Outback comes back to life, When most of the reptiles take their turn to snore!
Gardeners and farmers sow the winters seeds, And pray their efforts bring forth that intended rather than abundant weeds, Native mammals take their turn to be more active, Whilst the colours of an autumnal outback have their moment to believe.
Thus from Gumtrees cooler shades of grey blue, To Gidgee’s bumble bee blossoms blooming on cue, Contrasting the dirt to seem a shade redder in hue, Though seraphically beautiful ‘tis parallel to springtimes slew.
The more gentle rains bring green grasses back, Bird life’s change from summer predators to winter finches seems near a hack, As new surprises have a tendency to never lack, For ‘tis that fun part of the year commencing when Australia cools its way into an Autumnal Outback!
As the butterfly’s flutter amongst the flowers, Upon a cool late summer morn, A Kingfisher or three come to visit our garden, Bringing many to their window to fawn.
For these quiet pocket sized hunters, Are quite a sight to behold, For though they could hide in a coffee cup, They perch in clear sight bright and bold.
With sapphire plumage highlighted with yellow, A white collar and breast to match, A clear shot of one with a good camera, ‘Tis something of a rather rare catch.
For they tend to be always diligent, Ready to be come and gone in a moment, Not wary but mindful of the cat, For they don’t find him a worthy opponent.
Though ‘tis their spear like beak and speed, That they deem to be their prized assets great, Despite their unmissable characteristics, They rarely slip to fate.
For when the Kingfisher’s come to call, ‘Tis a delight to one and all, Unless you happen to be their prey, They tend to leave one in a happier day.
Red sand, 4 wheel drives, goanna’s on the run, Life in the Australian bush is known for being fun! Big Red Kangaroos, and emus running by, While a mighty wedge tail eagle soars up in the clear blue sky!
Whilst for the most life in the bush is sweet to say the least, Unless it happens to be midsummer… post rain… and the mozzies start to feast. Thus there’s a very valid reason the tourists tend to come round June, Summer can be down right dangerous despite natures sweet tune.
For when the rain deluges in horizontal, blowing everything askew, And goanna’s decide to accompany you when you happen to use the loo, Whilst venomous snakes move into the garden as if invited right on cue, And you can’t venture through a doorway without checking for; An abundance of creatures that could be lurking to fall on you… Not to mention the array of spiders which after all that don’t seem so bad, And the flies that when mixed with heat and dust are near enough to send one mad.
Though if perchance you can handle enduring all of that, The great Australian outback can be a blast (just don’t forget a solid hat). With many an adventure awaiting all whom dare, And for those of us that live out here that’s everyday with flare, For the vast Aussie bushland is abundant with ever changing beauty and grace, One just need remember to stay diligently mindful or she’ll fast put you in your place.
A delicate bird with clipped wings in a cage, Whose beauty and elegance seems abounding, Can only dream and sing their long days away, Whilst pondering how the free birds spend their day.
Pondering what dew covered berries taste like off a bush, As the sun kisses treetops good morning at dawn, How an evening breeze would feel to glide home upon, And what it would be like to harmonise with another’s song.
Yet within it’s well tended cage of metal and straw, Comfort and safety reason away thoughts so free, That our feathery friend seems content and happy, Singing its song all day in and out as it believes ‘tis supposed to be.
Then one day evidently our little friend finds a door ajar, Venturing out as cautiously as a timid kitten shy, Leaving both cage and comfort further behind in each moment, Until fearing their unknown is no longer a component.
Eventually this feathered beauty starts to heal, From their traumatic past endured for so long, Though the healing may at times seem traumatising within itself, ‘Tis ultimately better to withstand it than bury it upon a shelf.
Thus soon may come a time so empowering, That they start to embrace their new chapter of life, Allowing their inner phoenix to rise from their past strife, Entering each new seraphic day increasing their new enchantment rife!
Christmas ’twas mere days away, As the Bushman sat present wrapping, Singing classic Christmas carols, To which his foot ’twas tapping.
When something through a window, Distracted his concentrating eye, Curiously the Bushman ventured closer, As his startled horse reared to the sky.
There on his verandah stood, Much to the Bushman’s surprise, A six foot plus white kangaroo, With piercing sky blue eyes.
Not far away ’twas another, Whose leg appeared to be injured, Then a third wearing a harness, Made the scene seem completely absurd!
Three snowy white kangaroos, The Bushman thought he was dreaming! ’Till he tripped over his poor dogs tail, Whom let out his version of surprised screaming.
Then up hopped a fourth kangaroo, To see what had caused all the matter, A fifth dragging a leather strap, Followed with a bit of a clatter.
The Bushman looked from roo to roo, Trying to figure it all out, When a large man in a big red suit, Came out of the bush giving a shout:
‘Ho, Ho, Hello there my friend. My aircraft’s crashed just through there, Most of my boomers got away okay, But could you help me get back in the air?’
The Bushman couldn’t believe his eye’s, Here was Santa asking for his help, ‘Certainly’ was all he could manage to say, Whilst his dog gave him an encouraging yelp.
Not too far off the Bushman’s homestead, Santa’s sleigh ’twas caught up in the top of a gumtree, A sixth kangaroo in a harness was dangling, Thus getting him down unscathed was the key.
The Bushman soon knew what to do, Dashed back home to get some supplies, Whilst a flock of birds in the trees overhead, Sang loudly their mocking song cries.
‘Twasn’t long ‘till the Bushman returned, With ropes and his trusty chestnut horse, They tied and swung them over nearby trees, And securely to the sleigh of course!
After lowering down the last kangaroo, They slowly lowered Santa’s sleigh, Tended all the kangaroo’s injuries, ‘Fore Santa went up upon his way.
Soon ’twas Christmas eve, And snuggled by the fireplace, The Bushman and his beloved lady, Were discussing Santa’s big worldwide race.
When from overhead they heard crystal clear: ‘HO HO HO HO HELLO! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU, BUSHMAN, THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP, IN MAKING DREAMS WORLD WIDE COME TRUE!’
The Bushman’s Lady sat watching in disbelief, As presents then appeared beneath their tree, Whilst sounds of sleigh bells rang through the sky, Filling the surrounding bushland with magic and glee.
With the water becoming scarce, And the temperature arising, A Galah flock found themselves a quite pool, In which they engulfed quite unsurprising.
Soon there was a grey/pink cloud, Covering most of the ground & blue sky overhead, Drinking the water in the pool however, Would find quite a few sick or dead..
Yet they stayed on poolside, As if their party must go on, Screeching their song be it an almighty din, Dancing through each day so long.
Like most parties this one has its characters, The lifeguard, the clown, the quiet one in a corner, Those that are boldly in the spotlight, Or on the fence along the border.
‘Till at last the party’s over for the day, All fly off to where they roost, Resting quietly ‘till dawning light, Finding fresh water’s sure to be a boost.
The Poetic Life 2.0 